


I Was Taken Down (But You Helped Me Back Up)

by LarryLashton98



Series: Jamie and Mason's cuddle time [15]
Category: Fan Art - Sarah Tregay
Genre: Almost crying, Blushing, Blushing Jamie Peterson, Concerned Brodie Hamilton, Concerned Carrie Peterson, Concerned Eden O’Shea, Concerned Kellen Zalaba, Concerned Mason Viveros, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Everyone Loves Jamie Peterson, Face Punching, Flirting, Flirty Mason Viveros, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Flustered Jamie Peterson, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt Jamie Peterson, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Jamie Peterson, Injury, Jamie Peterson is Too Gay to Function, Jamie has a lot of people worried about him, M/M, Mason takes care of Jamie, Punching, Sleepiness, Sleepy Boys, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Jamie Peterson, Sleepy Kisses, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Worried Mason Viveros, boys crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26634361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarryLashton98/pseuds/LarryLashton98
Summary: "Oh my god, I think, my fingers gripping Mason’s robe. He’s going to hit her.The Redneck’s forearm muscles tense, release, and tense again, his face glowing redder with each squeeze.Eden seems frozen between anger and fear.Mason’s muscles go rigid, as if he’s ready to pounce." - Fan Art, page 333.
Relationships: Jamie Peterson/Mason Viveros
Series: Jamie and Mason's cuddle time [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/719259
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	I Was Taken Down (But You Helped Me Back Up)

**Author's Note:**

> Or, my take on what could've happened if Jamie stepped in to protect Eden from Nick.  
> (Why do I keep hurting the cinnamon roll???)
> 
> The beginning part in the italics is Sarah Tregay's words from the book :)

_The Redneck’s head jerks right, her handprint on his cheek burning as bright as a red neon sign until the rest of his face catches up._

_His hands ball into fists as big as sugar beets, and Eden’s eyes grow wide._

Oh my god _, I think, my fingers gripping Mason’s robe._ He’s going to hit her.

_The Redneck’s forearm muscles tense, release, and tense again, his face glowing redder with each squeeze._

_Eden seems frozen between anger and fear._

_Mason’s muscles go rigid, as if he’s ready to pounce._

The Redneck raises an arm and my body’s moving before I even decide to.

I grab Eden’s shoulder and pull her back a few steps and behind me, wedging myself between them. I wonder where this surge of bravery came from and why it’s only now appearing. Before I can finish the thought, the Redneck’s fist connects with my face.

I stumble back from the force of his punch, pain erupting from my nose and rapidly spreading outward. My hands fly to my face. There’s movement and yelling around me- what, I don’t know. I can barely think and all I know is how much my face is hurting. My eyes are shut but I can feel them watering, threatening to spill at any second. The taste of iron coats my lips and I’m struggling to breathe.

After what feels like an eternity, I register the hand on my arm and the voice speaking quietly but quickly in my ear. Well, there are many hands touching me and multiple voices carrying over each other, but there’s only one that matters.

Mason’s steady presence by my side eases the twist in my gut and I latch onto his voice, ignoring everyone else.

“Jamie? Are you okay? Can you hear me? Focus on my voice, Jamie.”

I whimper in acknowledgement.

“Good, okay. You’re going to be okay. C’mere. Chambers says there’s a first aid kit nearby. Coach is going to take us there; I can guide you, okay?”

I nod- just once- but it sends my head swirling and I groan.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. Just follow me,” Mason says as he slides his hand from my arm around my waist, his other hand resting where the first was. With me tucked into his side, Mason starts walking and I let him guide me.

I stumble despite the even ground and would have gone pitching forward if not for Mason’s hold of me. We go slowly, but eventually, we come to a stop and I’m lowered into a chair. My head has cleared a little bit, so I try opening my eyes a bit. The bright light is harsh and I clench them shut again with a wince.

Hands are light as they brush over my brow and then Mason says, “Okay, try again.”

I trust him completely so I do. It takes a few tries but then I see Mason crouched in front of me. He's blurry through my tears.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Better?”

His hands are cupped around my eyes and he's holding his cap up to shield the light. It's bearable.

I hum and blink the tears away as much as I can. Mason shifts into focus and I can see the worry and concern etched into his face. People are standing behind him- mostly students still in their gowns.

The one who's not in a graduation gown steps forward and crouches next to Mason. Coach.

“Peterson,” he greets, his face and tone pinched. He gestures to my nose, still behind my hands. “Could I take a look?”

He’s careful as he tugs my hands away from my face and the blood that pooled in my cupped hands spills down my arms. He swears under his breath and Mason blanches. Coach moves my hands back to where they were.

“How do you feel?” he asks while he gets what he needs from the first aid kit.

“Like I got punched in the face,” I say, careful to not get blood in my mouth.

Mason gives me an unimpressed look but Coach chuckles a little.

“Well, kid, if you feel well enough to joke about it, you’re probably fine. I’m still going to check you over, though, so hold tight.”

Mason moves out of the way- taking his cap with him- and I see Brodie, Kellen, Eden, and, to my surprise, Challis crowded in the doorway. Coach takes Mason’s place in front of me and pulls my hands away again to start cleaning the blood. When he does, Kellen and Brodie wince in sympathy and Eden gasps.

Coach is in the middle of poking and prodding at my nose and face when Chambers shows up.

“How are you feeling, Jamie? Are you hurt badly?”

“I’m fine- ow!” Coach’s finger pushes a little too hard and I flinch away. He gives me a look to tell me to cut the crap.

“He’s not _fine_ , but he’ll be okay,” Coach says to Chambers. “His nose is bruised but not broken and it doesn’t seem like he has a concussion. He’ll probably have a headache for the rest of the day.”

He finishes patching me up, bandaging my nose with me wincing when he touches tender areas. “You’ll be okay, Peterson. Just avoid strenuous activities and stop to rest if you start feeling like crap. If you get worse, go see a doctor.” He pats me on the arm and I take it as my cue to go.

“Thanks, Coach.”

“You’re welcome.”

I walk over to my friends.

“Oh, Peterson-” I turn back- “ice your nose. Ask Hamilton.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mason’s still looking worried when I turn around. He’s wringing his hands and Kellen has a hand on his shoulder. Brodie is next to them and I can see the relief in his eyes. Challis has an arm draped over Eden’s shoulder, who looks on the verge of tears.

“Jamie! I’m so sorry!” Eden cries, throwing her arms around my middle, burying her face in my chest.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I say, wrapping my own arms around her. “I wasn’t about to let him hit you.” I mean to comfort her, but she starts crying.

“It’s all my fault,” she sobs.

“No, it’s not. Did you ask him to hit you?”

“What?” She pulls back, makeup streaming down her cheeks. “No.”

“Did you ask him to hit me?”

“No!” She shakes her head.

“Then it’s not your fault,” I say simply.

Eden sniffs and wipes her cheeks. “You don’t blame me?”

“Never.” I mean it, too.

She smiles sadly then glances over her shoulder. “I, uh. I should probably go. Are you going to the party?”

I think about Brodie’s party and how it’ll probably be loud which is the opposite of what Coach said. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, well. See you later.”

Challis gives me a look and says to “take care,” then she leaves with Eden. Mason’s there as soon as they’re gone, putting a hand on my arm and studying my face.

“You okay, man?” Brodie asks before Mason can.

“I’m fine,” I say again. “Little tired, though.”

Mason hums and takes my hand. “We should find our families and get you home.”

The four of us walk back toward the crowd that’s starting to disappear as other students are going home. I see Challis now by herself, stuffing her cap and gown in a garbage can in the direction we’re heading. As we pass by, I snag the tassel from the cap. I don’t know if I’m going to Brodie’s after this, but it sounds like Challis- or at least Eden- is, so I hold it out for Brodie to give to her for me.

When he gives me a puzzled look, I explain. “She might want it one day.”

“You are too good for this world, Jamie,” he says and I flush.

He ruffles my hair, which doesn’t help my headache and I try to not wince. Mason notices, though, and tightens his grip on my hand. I squeeze back to let him know I’m okay.

Mom fusses over me when Mason and I find her and everyone else. I want to drag Mason home with us (with me) but he has to go with his own family. I try to not worry too much when I see how angry his father looks. I find out later that they could all see our kiss. And the Redneck punching me.

When we get home, I let Mom clean up the blood on my face, hands, and arms. She also puts on a fresh bandage and hands me a Tylenol. The twins cry when they see all the blood and it sends sharp pains through my head.

I try to sit through dinner, but even with the painkiller and ice pack pressed to my face, it’s too much. Especially when Elisabeth starts screeching. Mom tries to get her to quiet down, but eventually, I have to ask to be excused.

It’s blessedly quiet in my room and I lay there in the dark, ice pack resting alternatively on my nose and throbbing headache. I’m on the verge of falling asleep when there’s a knock on my door. Mom pushes open the door and sits on the edge of my bed.

“Not going?” she asks, taking in the sweatpants and baggy t-shirt I’ve changed into.

I just barely shake my head, but it still hurts. “Can’t even look at my phone right now.” The artificial light is too sharp and piercing and it hurts my eyes. If I can’t handle my phone, there’s no way I’ll be able to go to a party.

She pushes my hair back. “Mason’s here. Should I send him away?”

“No!” I sit up, too quickly and my head swims while my stomach churns. I clench my eyes shut and have to take a few deep breaths before I can open them again.

She guides me back down with her hands on my shoulders. “Take it easy. He’ll be up shortly.” Then she’s gone.

Mason shows up a few minutes later. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I say. I shimmy over and pat the bed next to me. He sits.

He looks _good_ , still in a white dress shirt as though he hadn’t changed yet. He doesn’t have a tie on, though, and his sleeves are rolled up to just below his elbows. For some reason, the cuffs bring attention to his muscled forearms and make him look ten times hotter. I didn’t know that was possible. The crisp white of the shirt contrasts with his warm honey skin and butterflies take flight in my stomach.

“How are you feeling?” he asks but my mind is still stuck drooling over him.

“You look good,” I say instead.

Mason chuckles and I mentally swoon. “You do too.”

“Please,” I scoff and- painfully- roll my eyes. I feel incredibly underdressed in my sweats while he’s looking like a god next to me. The baggy shirt I’m wearing is the opposite of flattering, my face is bandaged and bruised, and I’m holed up in bed with an ice pack wrapped in an old tea towel to soften the cold bite. “I’m a mess.”

“So?” He actually tilts his head to the side in confusion. “You’re still beautiful.”

And, _oh_.

My heart skips a beat, my chest feels light and my stomach fills with butterflies taking flight. A stupid grin pulls at my lips and I blush so hard I can’t even look at him.

Instead, I stare in the general direction of the wall and try to focus on not melting into a puddle of goo. I can still see him from my peripherals and he’s smiling softly at me, which just makes me blush harder. The blood rushing to my face makes my head hurt, but, in a way, it's worth it.

Mason leans over and kisses my hot cheek.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he says.

“Hmm?” I hum, not trusting myself to speak with him so close to me.

“I asked how you’re feeling.” Right.

I manage another nonsensical noise, still without looking at him.

My saviour comes as another knock on my door and Mason sits up, giving more than two inches between our faces. It’s Mom again.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” she says, stepping into my room. “It’s been a while so I thought I’d bring a cold ice pack.”

With the space between me and Mason and the change of topic, I can find words again. “Yes, please,” I croak.

She frowns and puts the back of her hand against my forehead. “Are you okay? You don’t sound good and you’re flushed.”

“‘m fine.” I squirm in embarrassment and Mason coughs awkwardly.

Mom looks back and forth between us for a moment before sighing and switching the now-warm ice pack for a cold one. Clinging to it, I curl onto my side, away from their pressing looks.

“Thanks,” I mumble into the towel.

She squeezes my shoulder and then I hear her leave.

“If I had known,” Mason starts and I can hear amusement peeking through his voice, “that all it took to shut you up was to call you pretty, I would’ve told you a long time ago.”

An undignified squeak leaves my throat. I want to tell him he’s being mean for making blush so hard I can’t speak, but that’s the thing. He’s being the complete opposite of mean and I don’t know what to do with it. No one has ever called me beautiful or pretty before, let alone _Mason_ , the boy I have a crush on. The boy who likes me back.

The bed shifts and then Mason’s draping himself over my side.

“Hey,” he says softly and I roll back onto my back because I’m weak and am unable to avoid him, as pointed out by Eden. He adjusts to prop himself up over me, a hand on the bed beside me. “If I’m to be your boyfriend- which I’d like to be, if you’ll let me- then you’ll have to get used to me complimenting you.”

I look down, blushing yet again, though my cheeks don’t get as hot this time.

It doesn’t escape me how he phrased it. _If you’ll let me_. As though I haven’t been falling over myself for him these past couple months. As though I wouldn’t do anything for anything with him. As though it was up to me whether or not we became boyfriends. As though I’d ever consider saying no.

I meet his eyes again. They’re soft and hopeful.

“I’d like that.”

Immediately he brightens, his eyes sparkle and his dizzying smile is contagious. “Good! I’d like that too.”

I laugh with him then quickly stop with a wince. I shift the ice pack to my forehead.

“Is there anything I can do?” Mason asks as he runs fingers through my hair with the hand not supporting his weight.

There isn’t and I tell him so.

“You can change if you want to,” I say, gesturing to his dress shirt and pants. “Depending on when you have to go home.”

“Your mom said I can stay the night.” He sits up and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He pauses and looks at me. “If it’s okay with you.”

I grin and wish, desperately, that it didn’t feel like there were little miners hacking away at my brain. He meets my smile with his own and leans over to kiss me.

He pulls away sooner than I'd like.

I watch as he undresses, shamelessly staring even after he catches me looking.

If it were me, I’d drape the button down over the back of my chair (which is what I did until Mom hung it up for me), but Mason asks to borrow a hanger. I’m torn between grinning because of course, he’s that kind of person to not leave piles of clothes everywhere and rolling my eyes because, after all this time we’ve known each other, why would he feel the need to ask for something like that. I go with the first because the second will hurt my head.

Once he’s changed into a pair of my sweatpants, he collapses next to me. The movement of the mattress jostles my head and the pain flares for a moment. I hiss and he immediately starts apologizing.

“‘S’okay,” I tell him. “Just, don’t do that again?”

“I’m sorry. I won’t.” He kisses my shoulder and it’s so sweet that I almost blush again.

How is he so perfect?

We settle into the quiet, Mason curled on his side facing me and me on my back with my head partially turned towards him. My eyes are closed as I listen to him talk while he trails his fingertips over my cheeks where I’m not injured. His fingers move and stop and change directions in random places and I don’t understand what he’s trying to do.

“What are you doing?” I ask quietly after a few seconds of him not saying anything.

“Connecting your freckles.”

I’ve never been fond of my freckles- they make me look ridiculously childish- but his soft confession has me biting back a smile.

“Who knew you were such a flirt?” I tease.

“I’ve been flirting with you for a while now. You’ve just never noticed because you’re really, really oblivious.”

I start to open my eyes, because, _um, what?_ when he continues speaking.

“And because most of the time I don’t say it out loud. You have no idea how many times I’ve flirted with you in my head.”

It’s so ridiculous that I snort out a laugh. And immediately wince. “Nooo,” I complain. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

He apologizes again, but this time I can hear amusement prominently in his voice. A few moments later, he starts talking again and I have to ask him to speak quieter, until his voice is just above a whisper.

Normally, spending time with him and listening to him talk is enough, but I’m slowly growing frustrated at how every thought and sound sends a wave of irritation through my head. Restlessness starts working its way through me and eventually I have to sit up, desperate to do something. But I move too quickly and my brain feels like water sloshing and spilling over the side of a bowl, which just makes me feel worse. I groan, burying my head in my hands.

Mason sits up beside me. “Hey,” he says, putting a hand on my arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I just, I feel like I should be doing something,” I say, struggling to explain what’s going on inside of me. “Like there’s a restless energy to _do_ something, but I don’t _want_ to do anything cause my head fucking hurts and I feel like shit and-” I stop, feeling hot and uncomfortable and wanting to lay down, but at the same time not wanting to, knowing it won’t help. 

I force myself to take a deep breath that catches in my chest and suddenly I’m struggling to not burst into tears. The almost-tears don’t help, though, but instead builds up the pressure behind my eyes.

“Fuck.” I hate how my voice wobbles on the single syllable, but Mason doesn’t say anything about it. He just wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my shoulder as I lean into him.

“Is there anything I can do? I could switch out the ice pack for a colder one,” he suggests and right now, it sounds like the best idea ever.

“That’d be nice,” I say.

“I’ll only be a few minutes,” he says, kissing my shoulder again. He’s more careful as he gets up and I’m grateful that he’s so considerate.

When he comes back, he’s also carrying a water bottle and a bottle of pills along with the ice pack. “I wasn’t sure how many Tylenol tablets you had before, so I thought I’d bring it if or when you need another one.”

“Oh my god, I love you,” I say appreciatively as I accept the medication, having taken only one when I got home and none since. I swallow it down with the water he brought while he switches out the ice pack and holds it out for me.

“You’re amazing,” I say, feeling a little better already, even if it’s just my mind tricking me. “What’d I ever do to deserve you?”

Without hesitation, Mason says, “By just being you.” The fond smile he sends my way alights a fire in my chest and I can feel myself on the verge of blushing yet again.

I hold out an arm and he curls into my side, kissing my cheek and together we lay down, closer than before. I hook one of my legs around his and put a hand on his chest, just over his heart. (I’m not too out of it that I can’t appreciate the feel of his pec under my palm.) He lifts one of his hands to rest his fingertips at the base of my throat. Our faces are inches apart and we’re just staring into each other’s eyes.

“What a way to start a relationship,” I say absentmindedly, thinking about how much this must suck for him, being holed up in bed, not able to do anything but whisper into the dark.

Mason grins. “Cuddling with my boyfriend? Yes, it is a great start.” While I mentally swoon from how smooth that was, he dips his head to kiss my neck and I instinctively close my eyes and tilt my head back to give him better access.

He continues to work his way up then along my jawline, kissing every inch of skin he can reach. Once he finishes his goal of turning me boneless and pliant under his touch, he tilts my head back down to press a kiss to my temple. It stirs up a flicker of pain, but not enough for me to say anything about it.

Leaning back, he meets my eyes again. His are a warm rich brown, even in the dark and he looks happy. There are crinkles at the corner of his eyes and he’s giving me his reserved and private smile. He seems weightless at this moment.

"You're kissing me an awful lot," I whisper, starting to grow drowsy.

He tenses, eyebrows dipping down. "Is, is that a problem?" He looks worried and I'd feel guilty if I wasn't feeling so terribly.

"Only when I can't kiss you back." I gesture to my bruised and battered face.

He relaxes into an easy smile. "When you're better."

I nod. "Then you'll get so many kisses." To make a point, I take his hand in mine to kiss his fingertips, careful to not aggravate my injured face.

Drifting between being awake and asleep, my mind floats away until there’s nothing left but me, Mason, and the warmth surrounding us.

After an undistinguishing amount of time, a gentle brush against my cheekbone rouses me.

I open my eyes just enough to peer blearily at him. He’s studying my injury.

“How bad’s look?” I mumble, my eyelids sliding shut again.

“Thank god we don’t have school tomorrow.”

The corner of my lips tug up into a barely-there smile and I tighten my hold of his hand. He squeezes back just as I drift off, feeling safe and happy with Mason at my side.

**Author's Note:**

> For real though, why do I keep hurting Jamie?? (I haven't really hurt Mason yet. . . I should hurt Mason.) I did give him a break this time by not giving him too bad of an injury.
> 
> I've never been punched in the face, so I don't know what it's like, but I figured he's at least get a headache and a terrible one at that. I based his headache off ones I get occasionally, and let me tell you, they SUCK. I hate them. So I gave one to Jamie 👼
> 
> (Side note, why do so many of my fics end with them falling asleep in each other's arms?)
> 
> If you liked it, please, please leave kudos and/or comments! They make my day, even if it's just 'ahhhhhh...' in all caps :)  
> You can also chat/leave requests/prompts here or on Tumblr at larrylashton98 or fanartsarahtregay!
> 
> Also, I'm currently writing a fic where Jamie is an online streamer/artist that requires usernames for his viewers. For the most part, my friend is making up random usernames, but if you'd like your name in the fic as one of the viewers let me know and I can include you! If you don't, that's fine, just ignore this part :)


End file.
